


Incrementum

by Magz (sparklepocalypse)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Non-consensual Mpreg, Pre-Slash, Snape Teaching Sex Ed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2006-07-16
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 15:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4527801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklepocalypse/pseuds/Magz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a boy, Draco Malfoy had always assumed that his adult life would be one much like the leading males in the Muggle romances that his mother hid in her wardrobe... but fate, it seems, always has a way of intervening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was poking around on my hard drive today in extreme boredom, and realized that I have all these stories that I'm _never_ going to finish, just sitting around gathering virtual dust. I figured now's as good a time as any to have an **unfinished fanfic liberation week** , so I'm going to post stuff gradually over the course of the next five to seven days, or so. 
> 
> Let's start with a very hastily written -- and then discarded -- _Harry Potter_ mpreg-esque fic, shall we? Also? Pre- _Half-Blood Prince_ , yo.

As a boy, Draco Malfoy had always assumed that his adult life would be one much like the leading males in the Muggle romance novels that his mother hid in her wardrobe. He'd be handsome, charming, and coveted for name and fortune by every eligible Pureblood virgin within an owl's flight of Malfoy Manor. He'd court a few of them, eventually choose one for a bride out of necessity to produce an heir, and sleep in a bedroom separate from his wife's for the rest of his life, once the brat was born.

Fate, it seems, always has a way of intervening.

 

Of all the people that had been expected to survive the War, Professor Snape was not one of them. In fact, students in the upper years had been betting on when he'd meet his demise. It was rather a shock when he returned to Hogwarts a week after the destruction of Voldemort with no more than a jagged, angry scar down the side of his face to prove that he'd been involved in the Final Battle at all.

"Nothing would please me more," he said as he looked out across a sea of seventh-years, crowded into his classroom, "than to see that not a single one of you arrogant imbeciles reproduce. However, since your _esteemed_ Headmaster has it in his head that there'll be perhaps too many drooling brats descended from you in the years to come, he has requested that my final task as your professor be to give you a lesson about contraceptive potions and charms, and things of a similar nature. Open your books to page eight hundred and forty-two and follow along."

Slightly shocked that Snape would be the one teaching them the facts of life, the students pulled out their textbooks and quickly flipped to the correct page.

> The first contraceptive potion was invented on accident by Brunhilda Tatterby in 1652, while she attempted to create a libido-reducer for her husband, known as Armand the Amorous, who had sired thirteen children with Brunhilda before she tested the first batch of potion. Since 1652, the potion has been refined, and side-effects such as orange chest hair, cabbage breath, and going cross-eyed have been all but eliminated. Today's contraceptive potions also prevent the spread of sexually-transmitted diseases, such as herpes, syphilis, gonorrhea, and HIV.

"Which ingredient did Brunhilda Tatterby accidentally add in order to create the contraceptive potion?" Snape asked, and pointedly ignored Hermione Granger, whose hand shot up immediately.

Draco Malfoy raised his hand. "She added dried rose petals instead of spring water in which a rose has rotted," he said, and resumed doodling in the margin of his notes.

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy. Ten points to Slytherin." The professor looked keenly about the room. "Longbottom! How often must a contraceptive potion be taken?"

Neville, who'd been playing idly with a quill, froze and sat up, his cheeks coloring. "Uh... sir? Could you re-repeat the question, please?"

Snape scowled. "Merlin forbid you have children. How often, Longbottom, must a contraceptive potion be taken to ensure potency?"

"Once a day, sir?" Neville guessed.

"If, you dottering imbecile, you took a contraceptive potion once daily, not only would the contraceptive aspect of the potion nullify itself, but your _grandchildren_ would end up with orange chest hair. The correct answer is, of course, once a month." Snape stalked over to his desk and glanced down at the textbook that lay open on top of it. "Mr. Potter, read the passage beginning on the second-to-last paragraph of page eight hundred and forty-three."

Harry frowned. He'd sat in the back of the room and slouched down in his seat in the hopes that the Professor wouldn't call on him. Sighing, he found his place on the page and began to read aloud. "An often-documented phenomenon in the Wizarding World is male conception." He paused and blinked, then continued reading. "There are currently two known ways in which a wizard may conceive. The first, and more commonly-occurring method of conception is through sexual intercourse, during which the semen of one wizard of moderate to great power is absorbed anally, mid-orgasm, by another. The wizards' combined power magically forms a fetus, which is an exact clone of the host wizard."

The class began to snicker.

"Silence!" Snape hissed. "Continue, Potter."

Harry fiddled with the edge of a page in his text. "Standard contraceptive charms and potions will prevent this type of conception from occurring. As the male human body is not equipped with the organs necessary to carry a fetus to full-term, the tiny bundle of cells is rejected by the host wizard's body within two weeks of conception, unless it is transferred to an external synthetic womb.

"The second method of conception is through a dark curse called Incrementum, which is Latin for 'growth' or 'offspring'. The Incrementum curse, which only works when cast by an individual seeking vengeance, causes the victim to become pregnant with the child of whichever living wizard the spell-caster names. A child born of Incrementum is never the clone of one parent or the other -- rather, it shares characteristics from both wizards. It is noteworthy that in the case of male pregnancy by Incrementum, should the wizard not transfer the fetus to a synthetic womb within two weeks of impregnation, the wizard will die as the fetus is rejected by his body.

"Symptoms of Incrementum begin immediately upon conception, and include headache, bowel cramping, lightheadedness, blurred vision, severe nosebleeds, and loss of consciousness." Now completely red in the face, Harry slouched even lower in his seat.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. For the remainder of the class you will be creating contraceptive potions. Turn to page three hundred and fifty-seven and retrieve the necessary ingredients."

 

"Seventh years," the Headmaster said, standing before the Head Table and looking down at the student body somberly. "I have never been more proud of any class leaving Hogwarts. You have shown remarkable intelligence, courage, and resilience in the face of adversity. Regardless of your chosen path, I wish you all the best in life." He smiled down at the assembled students. "Please accept my congratulations."

After a brief round of applause, he continued. "For those of you planning on taking the train, the Hogwarts Express awaits you at Hogsmeade Station. Otherwise, Madam Rosmerta informs us that you may Floo from her establishment. Please do not attempt to Apparate until you are off school grounds. It would be terribly disappointing if you were to be splinched so soon after your commencement." He paused. "It is an honor to have been your Headmaster. Good luck."

The younger students and most of the faculty cheered enthusiastically as the seventh-years raced for the doors.

Only two people noticed when Draco Malfoy slid to the floor, unconscious, blood trickling from his nose.

 

It was dark, dull, and throbbing pain where he was. From far away, he heard the echo of voices. He reached for them -- and a sudden burst of energy brought him into sharp awareness. Blinking owlishly, he stared up into the concerned faces of Professor Snape, Headmaster Dumbledore, and Madam Pomfrey.

"Mr. Malfoy," the mediwitch asked, "how are you feeling?"

"My head hurts," Draco mumbled, and closed his eyes.

Madam Pomfrey tutted. "That's to be expected. You've got a rather nasty bump on your temple, where it connected with the Slytherin House table."

Draco opened his eyes again. "Pain-relieving potion?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, my boy," the Headmaster said. "Given the circumstances."

Frowning, Draco asked, "Circumstances?"

"Someone's given you a commencement gift of the Incrementum curse," Professor Snape replied. "Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy. You're pregnant."

Draco laughed once, sharply. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped back onto the hospital bed.

"I daresay he took that rather well," the Headmaster said cheerfully.

"Rather well?" Snape asked incredulously. "I shudder to think how well he'll react when he finds out who the father is, in that case."


	2. Incrementum

In all his wildest dreams, Draco had never thought he'd watch the development of the next Malfoy heir so closely. In a glowing blue bubble floating a few inches above a basinet, his child rested.

He eyed the bubble closely. Other than the light fuzz developing on the baby's head, it certainly didn't _look_ like a Malfoy. In fact, it looked more like...

Eyes narrowed, Draco poked the bubble with the tip of his wand, and promptly found himself thrown across the room by a burst of wild magic from the baby. Once he'd extricated himself from a pile of scattered books and papers and dusted himself off, he glared at the blue bubble, then stomped over to the fireplace and tossed a handful of Floo powder into the grate. "Malfoy Manor, west wing," he muttered, and stuck his head in the flames. " _Mother_!"

> **BOY WHO LIVED: BABY ON BOARD?**  
>  Rita Skeeter, Staff Reporter
> 
> An anonymous source for the _Prophet_ has revealed to us that the heir of two powerful wizarding lines is currently incubating in a synthetic womb inside the London flat of Twice Defeater of the Dark Lord and current Montrose Magpies Seeker Harry Potter's school rival Draco Malfoy. According to the source, Malfoy was impregnated by Incrementum curse at the end of his seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
> 
> "He fell over all of a sudden, and he wouldn't wake up," says Malfoy's former betrothed, Pansy Parkinson, who witnessed the curse in action. "His nose was bleeding. It was horrid, I can't stand the sight of blood."
> 
> Our source tells us that the child, a boy, is "Most powerful indeed," and that he'll be a formidable wizard, once properly trained. But does Potter know about the existence of his son? Parkinson says no. "Draco and Potter hate each other. Why would Draco tell Potter that his blood had soiled the Malfoy line?"
> 
> Well, if Harry Potter didn't know before, he most certainly will, now. The only question that remains unanswered is how the Boy Who Lived will react to the news that he's an impending father. A recent poll suggests that he'll do everything in his power to keep the baby from Malfoy, once it's born. However, only time will tell.

"Ron's been avoiding me since the article about Malfoy was published," Harry said with a frown. He sipped at his tea, then set the cup back down in the saucer with a soft clink. "It almost makes me think he had something to do with the curse."

"Nonsense, dear," Mrs. Weasley said with a chuckle. "Whatever would Ron have to do with impregnating a Malfoy?"

"Well," Harry replied, "the Potions book did say that the curse only works if the caster is seeking revenge, and Malfoy was a prat the entire time we were at school. Ron might hate him more than anyone."

Molly shook her head. "Harry," she said, "Incrementum is a Dark curse. Ron wouldn't curse one of his classmates and risk their life because of a bit of schoolboy rivalry. Here, I'll clear this up once and for all." She stood and walked to the foot of the staircase. " _Ron_! Come downstairs, dear!"

A moment later, Ron thumped down the stairs, but froze mid-step at the sight of Harry. He crept cautiously down the remaining steps and sat at the table, in the chair furthest from his friend. "Hi, Harry," he mumbled. "What did you want, Mum?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled indulgently. "Harry seems to have gotten the notion into his head that you had something to do with poor Draco Malfoy's being a father." She laughed again. "I'd like you to set him straight."

Ron looked down at his hands and flushed. "Er... Mum?" He cringed.

" _Ronald Bilius Weasley_!" Molly exclaimed. "How _dare_ you cast such a dangerous, dark curse on one of your classmates? Now Draco Malfoy's got himself a growing baby, and poor Harry as the other father. Why, they're just out of school! They're too young for children!" She placed her hands on her hips. "I expect you to apologize first to Mr. Malfoy and then to Harry, Ron. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Mum," Ron replied glumly.

"And Harry, if there's anything you need -- baby books, advice on child-rearing, someone to take the baby for a day, you let me know." She patted Harry's cheek and turned back to Ron. "Now, upstairs with you. I want you to write a nice, polite apology to Draco Malfoy, dear, and then you bring it down to me to look over."

"Yes, Mum," Ron sighed. He got to his feet and slumped back up the stairs.

"I never thought I'd hear you defending a Malfoy," Harry said.

Molly sat down and picked up her teacup. "It's true that my family doesn't get along with the Malfoys," she said, "but I wouldn't wish the Incrementum curse on anyone. I hear that labor is terribly painful, even though the wizard doesn't actually give birth, and the poor boy won't be able to so much as float a feather for a week or so afterwards. Up until the child is born, it's Draco Malfoy's magic that's sustaining it, and a particularly powerful child drains an awful lot of power from the host parent."

Harry paled. "So he could still die?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. There was a baby born of Incrementum in St. Mungo's the same time that I delivered the twins. The child survived, but the father died. The family gave the poor baby up for adoption. I would've taken him home myself, if I hadn't had two newborns of my own to deal with." She sipped her tea. "Oh, but don't worry, dear. Draco's young. I'm sure he'll be fine, and there's no doubt in my mind that Narcissa Malfoy will see them both well taken care of."

"That's what I'm worried about," Harry muttered. "You know, I could deliver the note from Ron. I've been meaning to talk to Malfoy, anyhow -- I haven't owled him about the article yet."

 

Draco's doorbell rang while he was again staring into the synthetic womb. The child had taken to moving around energetically inside the bubble, which in turn utterly fascinated his father. Draco stared into the bubble for a moment longer, then stood to answer the door just as the bell chimed again.

When it registered that Harry Potter was standing outside his flat, Draco closed the door in his face.

Potter took to knocking, so Draco opened the door again with an exasperated sigh. "I presume you're not here to invite me to a Hogwarts reunion," he said, and waved him inside, then closed and bolted the door.

Attempting a weak smile, Potter shook his head. "I read the article," he said. He rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled his feet.

Draco leveled him with a cool look. "Look, Potter, if you've come here because you want to fight me for custody, I'm afraid that's out of the question. As the sole remaining male Malfoy I need an heir, and the result of my being cursed is saving me from marrying some insipid Pureblood witch." He glanced toward his bedroom, where the glowing bubble floated serenely. "However, you're welcome to the next one if someone should curse me again."

"I don't want to fight you for custody," Potter assured him. "I mean, a family would be great someday, but I'm only seventeen. I just wanted to know if you're okay... if he's okay -- if you need help or anything...?"

"And lay off the guilt, you utter prat." Draco snapped. "As much as it pains me to admit it, it's not your fault that someone feeling vengeful decided to invoke your name when they waved their wand in my direction."

"Actually..." Potter trailed off, pulling a folded piece of parchment from inside a pocket in his robes. He handed it to Draco silently.

Draco read the letter. "So apparently it _is_ your fault someone feeling vengeful decided to invoke your name. You don't mind terribly if I place a curse on the Weasel that causes all _his_ future children to be buck-toothed and cross-eyed, do you?"

"Er," said Potter.

"Please, I'm joking. It'd be a travesty if he reproduced at all. I suppose you want to see the baby?" Draco turned and headed for his bedroom, not checking to see if Potter followed him. "He's in here. Looks awfully like you, it's tragic."

Potter stopped short next to him as he saw the floating blue bubble. He stared for a minute, then whispered, "He's so tiny."

"You should've seen him at two weeks. He was just a speck, then." Draco extended a hand toward the bubble, his fingertips hovering just above the glowing surface. "Word to the wise -- do not touch the bubble or he'll throw you through the wall. He seems to like this, though." He moved his hand across the face of the bubble, never making contact. The bubble pulsed under his hand.

"Can I?" Potter asked, and stretched his hand out, too.

Draco nodded. "Just be careful. If you move too quickly you might lose a finger or two. Mother was badly burned the first time she tried."

"He'll be beautiful," Potter marveled, staring into the bubble. "Have you thought of names, yet?"

"Malfoy family tradition dictates that a child's name is not to be revealed until after birth, to prevent it being cursed with defects or illnesses that begin in infancy," Draco replied, though in truth he hadn't yet begun to look through the tomes of acceptable names for wizards descended of the Malfoy bloodline. "I'll owl you when he's hatched out of this thing and tell you what I've decided on."

Potter nodded. "Fair enough." He dug into another robe pocket and pulled out a small, fuzzy, very squishy-looking bear. "I brought this for him. It's charmed so that when he hugs it, it'll feel like someone's cuddling him." He handed the bear to Draco, who looked at it with an eyebrow raised. "Thanks for letting me see him." He withdrew his hand from the bubble. "I'll let myself out."

Draco watched him leave, and fiddled with one of the bear's paws. "Potter," he began, then stopped himself short.

Potter stopped in Draco's bedroom doorway. "When he's old enough, can you tell him he's got another dad that loves him very much?"

Draco frowned, withdrew his hand from the bubble as well, and stepped toward Potter. "How do you know that you'll love him?"

Potter looked at Draco, then at the bubble. "Part of me is in there. How could I not?"

 

That night when he went to sleep, Draco held the little bear close to his chest and burrowed contentedly into warm, comforting arms that weren't there.

 

> **SKEETER SACKED AND SUED**  
>  Marvin McCullough, Staff Reporter
> 
> _Daily Prophet_ reporter Rita Skeeter has been served with a lawsuit and relieved of her position as a journalist for the periodical after illegally monitoring the home of Draco Malfoy for the period of two months, during which time she discovered that Malfoy was incubating a child conceived through Incrementum. It is now widely believed that the father of the the child in Malfoy's synthetic womb is none other than Harry Potter.
> 
> In a statement released late yesterday afternoon, Narcissa Malfoy had only this to say: "I have always valued my privacy. My son and I will not be the subject of sensationalist journalism." Draco Malfoy was unavailable for comments.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was just sitting down to a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea when an owl flew in through his kitchen window, an envelope in its beak. It dropped the note down in front of Harry, then swooped out as silently as it had come in.

He broke the seal and read, a smile slowly spreading on his face.

> _Come by sometime next week when I'll hopefully have gotten my magic back, to meet Gabriel Augustus Malfoy. He looks even more like you now that he's born, poor thing. Luckily, he's got my hair._
> 
> _DM_
> 
> _PS. There's a photograph of him inside the envelope. Do what you like with it, Mother's made three or four dozen copies._

Harry pulled out the photo, touched it lightly with an oddly gleeful expression, and went in search of a frame, breakfast forgotten.

 

"I do not believe it is wise for Harry Potter to be in contact with my grandson." Narcissa Malfoy spoke in hushed tones as she watched her son rock Gabriel.

Draco sighed and set the baby down in his basinet, placing a soft bear in with him. "Mother, politics and schoolyard enmity aside, I think it best that Gabriel knows both his parents. It's better that he grows up knowing Potter than that he runs away in ten years because nobody bothered to tell him he's got a barmy Quidditch player for a father."

"Honestly, Draco," Narcissa sighed, "you must think about your family. What would your father say?" She folded her hands primly on her lap.

Draco tucked a blanket over his son and turned to face his mother. "Father lost the right to give me advice when he landed himself in Azkaban, Mother. Any reason he had to protest about Gabriel being in contact with Potter was rather exterminated last spring, wouldn't you agree?" He pointed his wand behind him and murmured a charm that would set the inside of the basinet into a gentle rocking motion, then offered his mother a hand. "Shall we continue this in the sitting room?"

Narcissa took Draco's arm. "I do wish you'd reconsider my offer to live at the Manor, Draco. This place is so... _small_." Her upper lip curled slightly in disdain. "It's not the proper environment for the Malfoy heir. And the décor is so shabby. Really, you must allow me to owl my decorator and have him bring some _class_ into your home."

"It's one of the most expensive flats in London, and built by a world-famous architect. The décor is more than suitable for an unwed, teenaged father and his infant son, and I rather like it here, Mother. Besides, you know I'll bring Gabriel to visit you, and you're welcome to visit him here." Draco motioned for his mother to sit in one of the comfortable chairs in his sitting room. "Can I fix you a cup of tea?"

"At least get a house elf, Draco," Narcissa said. "You shouldn't be working in the kitchen, even just to make tea. That's a servant's task."

Draco clenched his jaw. "I was practically _raised_ by house elves, Mother. My son will not be." He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. "And I've discovered that cooking's rather enjoyable. It's quite a lot like brewing potions, except the results are usually far more palatable."

 

"Now _this_ seems familiar," Severus Snape murmured as his godson stomped into his laboratory, holding a squalling infant. "Colicky, is he?" He put down his stirring rod and stepped away from the simmering mixture he'd been working on.

"Fix him," Draco demanded. "He's been carrying on like this for the last two hours, and I've tried everything from singing nursery rhymes to charming the ceiling of my bedroom so that faeries danced across it to quiet him down. And just when I think I've got him settled down, he starts up again. I'm fairly sure my head is going to explode if he doesn't stop crying. I think he's plotting to drive me insane so that he can get his hands on the family fortune early." He glared suspiciously at his son. "Give him a potion  
or something. Just make him stop."

Severus looked at father and son and smirked. "It seems like just yesterday your own father was in here, ordering that I fix _you_ ," he said. "There's nothing to be done for it. It's the Malfoy temperament showing through -- you'll just have to wait it out."

"Wait it out?" Draco bounced the baby lightly, and Gabriel wailed louder. "How long?"

"A few weeks," Severus said. "Possibly months." He sprinkled a few bay leaves into the bubbling cauldron before him, stirred, and inhaled with a sigh. Another perfect tomato soup. His favorite.

" _Months_?" Draco asked, aghast. "But I'll have gone completely batty by then! Can't you just give him a sedative potion or something?"

As if deeply offended at the very idea that his father would attempt to sedate him, Gabriel stiffened his back and screamed until his face was beet red, a color that was most unbecoming of a Malfoy. Then he spit up all over Draco's shoulder.

"I'm afraid not. There isn't one in existence that's mild enough for an infant, and we wouldn't want to endanger your heir, would we? I suggest, Mr. Malfoy," said Severus, "that you find yourself a babysitter."

Draco grimaced and mopped at his shirt with a handkerchief, thinking for a moment. "How about a sedative for _me_ , then?"

 

Of all the people Harry had expected to accost him as he walked out of the Magpies' locker rooms and onto the pitch after practice, Draco Malfoy was not one of them. Harry shrank his broom and slipped it into his pocket, then turned to face Malfoy and his screaming child. "Hello?" Harry asked, before finding himself holding a squirming, fussy baby.

" _You_ take him. I'm at my wit's end," Malfoy said, looking more than a little worse for wear. "No matter what I do, he won't stop crying. Severus says it's colic, and that there's nothing to be done for it, but I'm very close to hitting the brat with the Imperius curse and _making_ him stop."

Harry cradled Gabriel in his arms and smiled down at him. "Your father wouldn't cast an Unforgivable on you, no he wouldn't... He loves you very much and wouldn't want to _hurt_ you..." At this, he glared over at Draco, but his gaze softened somewhat when he saw again how haggard he looked. "I've got an idea. Remus once told me that sometimes when I started crying as a baby, the only thing that would calm me down is when my dad took me out flying."

"What?!" Malfoy exclaimed. "No. No, no, no. You are accident-prone, and reckless, and you will not kill my son on a broomstick!" He stepped up to Harry until they were nose-to-nose. "You remember what I said about not having to marry a greedy, vapid cow? That only applies if the little bundle of joy you're holding survives until I'm dead. Provided I die after he comes of age. No flying."

"Relax, Malfoy," Harry said soothingly as he pulled his broom from his robe pocket and ended the shrinking charm on it. "I wasn't named Best Flier in the League just because I'm pretty. He'll be safe as houses."

"But -- "

Before Malfoy could complain further, Harry had mounted his broom and lifted off, and was now flying in slow, easy circles about ten feet from the ground with the crying infant tucked close to his chest.

"Potter," Malfoy sputtered, "if you hurt him I'll hex your balls off."

"He's fine," Harry murmured, and nuzzled the whimpering baby. "He's calming down already." He bounced the baby lightly in his arm. "Your dad knows just how to fix you, doesn't he?" he asked Gabriel.

Gabriel stared up at Harry for a moment, then closed his eyes, smacked his lips, and fell asleep.

Harry tilted the broomstick downwards and drifted gently to the ground, still cradling the baby carefully. "He's sleeping," he said quietly, brushing Gabriel's cheek gently with the backs of his fingers. "If he starts up again later, just Floo to 'Hole in the Ground' and I'll fly him around the field behind my place." He moved to pass the baby back to Malfoy, but Malfoy sat down hard on a bleacher.

"All this time," Malfoy laughed softly, a slightly hysterical look on his face, "the only thing I had to do to make him stop crying was to fly him around in circles for a few seconds?"

"I guess he's more of a Potter than you meant for him to be," Harry offered, and passed the sleeping infant off to Malfoy.

"Mm," Malfoy hummed. "You're telling me. When Mother realized that Gabriel has eyes like yours instead of the grey that every firstborn male has had since Ignacio Malfoy became the family patriarch in 1573, she threw a fit of pique, I'm afraid. She might be more of a traditionalist when it comes to my line than even my Father was, and she doesn't even have Malfoy blood."

"But then, she wouldn't be your mother if she were your father's kin, would she?" Harry shrunk his broom and lowered himself to the bleachers a few feet away from Malfoy.

"Don't be so sure. How do you think the Purebloods keep their blood so pure? They can't very well put it through the wash." Malfoy absently rocked his sleeping son. "Marrying a distant cousin's not unheard of."

Harry made a face. "I can't imagine having to marry _my_ cousin," he said.

"The tub of fat I saw at King's Cross once or twice? I don't blame you," Malfoy replied.

Harry shuddered, frowning. "1573? The Malfoys have been around that long?"

"Don't pretend to be so surprised, Potter. Your line's been around nearly as long as mine has. Old pureblood families like our fathers', they all come from the same place -- the Founders. I wouldn't be surprised if a Potter was among one of the first students ever to go through Hogwarts. And I'll wager every single one of your ancestors have been Gryffindors."

"Odd, then," Harry said, "that the Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin."

Malfoy started and nearly dropped Gabriel, but rocked him back to sleep before he could start crying again. "You wouldn't have lasted a day in Slytherin," he said.

"I suppose you're right. After all, a Parselmouth with an expansive knowledge of the Dark Arts fits best in Gryffindor, don't you think?"

"I -- you -- " Malfoy spluttered. He scowled. "Clever, Potter."

"Wasn't it?" Harry asked. "My wit is usually rather reserved. I'm almost proud."


	4. Chapter 4

"Father, can we go to Dad's house?" Gabriel bounded into the room as fast as his little three-year-old legs would carry him.

"Gabriel Augustus, what have I said about running inside?" Draco lowered the paper enough to peer over the top edge at his son.

Gabriel shuffled his feet. "Good boys don't do it?" he asked hopefully, with an innocent grin that Draco _knew_ hadn't come from his side of the gene pool.

"Turn around, and walk back in here." Draco resumed his perusal of the _Prophet_.

"But Father, Dad's got a real live -- "

"Tell me when you've walked here from your bedroom."

A minute later, Gabriel returned, walking slowly and carefully. "Father? I want to go to Dad's house. He's got a boa consticker and he _talks_ to it."

"Constrictor," Draco corrected absently.

"Consticker," Gabriel repeated. "That's what I said. Can I go see the boa consticker, Father?"

Draco set down the newspaper. "Wearing that?" he asked with an eyebrow raised.

From the ensemble the child was wearing, it was obvious that Gabriel had dressed himself this morning. He looked down at his sandals, rain slicker, dress slacks, and My Pal Merlin tee shirt and smiled. "Yes, Father," he said. "I like these clothes."

"So do I," Draco said, "but not all at once." He flicked his wand at Gabriel and all but the shirt changed into something more suitable for romping in Potter's expansive backyard. Then he stood, reached down, and picked his son up. "Ready? Close your eyes and hold on tight."

Like always, Gabriel let out a little squeal when Draco Apparated them to the front gate of Potter's house.

"Dad!" Gabriel called, and squirmed until Draco set him down. He opened the gate and ran up the walk to the front door, pounding energetically. "Daddy, Father brought me to see the boa consticker!" he exclaimed.

After a moment, the door swung open and Potter, dressed excessively shabbily in a way that made Draco mourn for Gabriel's future fashion sense, reached down to pick Gabriel up and swung him around. "There's my favorite boy!" he exclaimed.

Gabriel giggled and immediately started babbling about the snake, while Draco sighed and shook his head.

Setting the tiny blond boy on his hip, Potter beckoned for Draco to come inside. "Come in, I'll fix you some tea," he said.

"I don't want to impose," Draco began, only to be cut off by his son.

"Father, please? You can stay and play with us," he offered with a wide grin. "Daddy's teaching me to ride a broomstick. He says that you were the best Seeker he ever flew against at Hogwarts!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Flying already, Potter?"

Potter set Gabriel down. "Why don't you go see if you can find the surprise I got for you?" he suggested, and the boy scurried off. He ushered Draco the rest of the way into the house and closed the door. "He's been riding a toy broomstick. It doesn't go more than three feet off the ground unless the child is holding on to an adult's hand, flies slower than most people jog, and it's spelled with close to a dozen different charms that keep the rider safe."

"Hmm," Draco said.

"I helped decide on a design. They wanted to go with the look of a Cleansweep, but I thought that it might be nice for little kids to pretend they're Quidditch stars, so I suggested the look of a racing broom."

"Of course you did," Draco replied, and was about to say more when he heard an excited shriek, followed by the thudding of feet down the hall toward them.

A flash of orange streaked in their direction and Potter scooped it up as Gabriel ran to Draco and reached to be picked up. "Daddy got a _kitten,_ Father!" he exclaimed.

Draco looked at the squirming ball of fluff in Potter's hands and sneered. Its fur was distinctly _Weasley_ -colored. "A cat, Potter?" he asked. "How plebeian." He picked up his son and balanced him on his hip. "You'll spoil him, you know."

"Spoil?" Potter asked. "Me, spoil him? Excuse me, but which of us was the one who bought him a Thoroughbred racehorse when he decided his new favorite animal was a pony?"

"Well, I couldn't very well get him a throwback mare," Draco protested. "I required an animal befitting a Malfoy." He turned his attention to Gabriel, who was reaching for the kitten. "What will you name him?"

Gabriel thought for a moment, sticking the tip of his finger in his mouth, then smiled. "Godric!" he exclaimed.

The kitten let out a little mew at that, then curled up in Potter's hands and went to sleep.

Draco stared at Potter in disgust. "This is your fault. If you've turned my son into a Gryffindor, so help me, Potter..."

"I wanted to name him Salazar, but then I remembered Daddy's already got a Salazar. It's his boa consticker! Want to see, Father?" Gabriel wiggled until Draco put him down. "Come with me, Father. Will you talk to Salazar, Daddy? You have to tell him about Godric."

"I don't know," Potter said uneasily, and glanced at Draco.

Draco snorted. "There's nothing to be afraid of, Potter. Unless you think that I've suddenly developed the ability to speak Parseltongue, and will understand what dirty little secrets you tell the snake."

Potter's eyes narrowed and he _hissed_ at Draco.

"Or perhaps not," Draco said, faintly. He swallowed hard as Gabriel took him and Potter by the hands and practically dragged them into the living room.

 

"Mother, you've got to make him stop. He's turning Gabriel into a _Gryffindor_ , for Salazar's sake, and speaking Parseltongue around him, and teaching him to fly a broomstick, and I won't stand for it." Draco stood before a window in his mother's sitting room at the Manor, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared outside and watched Gabriel frolicking across the lawn.

"Which part is turning Gabriel into a Gryffindor, exactly?" Narcissa asked. "The flying, or Slytherin's gift?"

"Gabriel is at a very impressionable age right now," Draco protested. "Potter got him a horridly orange kitten, and Gabriel named it Godric. _Godric_ , Mother!"

"Gabriel told me he's also got a boa constrictor named Salazar," Narcissa replied. "Now, Draco, you must look at this rationally. You were the one who wanted Potter to be involved in Gabriel's life. You must've expected that Gabriel would develop some of his mannerisms." She set down her needlework and stood to join her son by the window. "You are so like your father," she said. "After all when you were Gabriel's age we gave you Albert, and you loved that dog so much that your father was afraid you'd wind up in Hufflepuff."

Draco snorted and leaned closer to the window, nearly pressing his face against the glass.

"But I do hope that you don't sacrifice your son's happiness because you think it might cause him to be a disgrace to Pureblood society. Let him keep the kitten. And let him continue to see Potter. He would do anything for the boy, Draco. Perhaps even lay down his life." She patted her son's shoulder. "And his influence on your son is... not altogether appalling."

"I don't -- "Draco began.

"He is _happy_ , Draco," Narcissa said, and gazed out onto the vast, green expanse of soft grass behind the Manor, where her grandson was running after a toy snitch and laughing. "As a parent, that's all you should ever ask for."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all I wrote. Lord knows there's enough other chunks of fic hanging around on my hard drive to make up for it.


End file.
